


See You At Your Funeral

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Assassination, Based on a PUP Song, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Post-Break Up, Revenge, Song Lyrics, bonnie n clyde, ray's still pissed about it, ryan n ray were like, until ryan ditched ray for a fucker from los santos on a whim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: i hope somehow I never see you again / and if I do it's at your funeral or better yeti hope the world explodes / i hope that we all diewe can watch the highlights in hell / i hope they're televised!
Relationships: Ryan Haywood/Ray Narvaez Jr.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	See You At Your Funeral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notkwins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notkwins/gifts), [kcannibalp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcannibalp/gifts).



> uhhhh fuck what the fuck am i doing with my life at this point lmao shit
> 
> take it take the fucking angst it's been so fucking long since i've posted shit but frankly i'm not really sorry??
> 
> life sucks but fuck it ig

The sniper positions himself on the third floor of the abandoned warehouse, southeast corner, with the janky window that never really opens right. He's been here a thousand times, it's the best perch in all of Los Santos. Every odd job always lead him back here, to this decrepit building in the middle of the industrial district. He's screwing the silencer to his rifle on, doing one last wipedown before it all goes down. Across the street, an oddball pair, a rather short, stout chap in a bright orange and purple blazer stands with a tall woman in pajama shorts and a floral shirt, talking nonchalantly about something the sniper couldn't give two fucks about. Blazer wearing shades at night and Floral's yukkin' up at whatever shitty moves he's trying to pull. The sniper sneers, rage beginning to boil up inside him. 

_What a fucking douche._

The sniper checks the time, watch on his wrist glowing in the darkness of the room. The digital face reads **21:55:13.** Five minutes. He's got time to kill. He debates lighting up and getting high, but in the cover of darkness the flame from his lighter be a dead giveaway. Or, his ex's lighter. The ex he tracked all the way from Fuckshit Nowhere to Los Santos. The ex who left him to die for the douchebag in the blazer wearing shades at night like some kind of fucking chud.

_You're gonna kill him, you're gonna fucking shoot him through his stupid fucking face and those stupid fucking aviators and you're gonna watch his brains splatter all over Floral Tits over there and-_

_Woah, woah, woah. You're not gonna do that. You're here for your ex. You're gonna kill your ex. That's why you're here._

_Chill the fuck out.  
_

The sound of a car snaps the sniper out of his stupor. He checks his watch: **21:58:43.** He cracks his neck, then props the rifle just out the lip of the window, steadying his aim. Peering through the scope, he watches as a man in a tuxedo steps out of the driver side door, followed by a spunky kid in a leather jacket just behind him on the driver's side passenger seat, yelling something that falls on deaf, angry ears. Next is a kid in a wrinkled business shirt, gold chains glittering in the light of the streetlamps, laughing and gabbing off to Leather Punk, who's still shouting obscenities at Tux. Tux gives him the finger, and the front seat passenger door opens. The sniper glances at the time.

**21:59:01.**

The passenger, a tall, broad shouldered man in a blue and black leather jacket, face paint smudged all to hell, slams the car door shut. He runs a hand through thick, greasy black hair. There's blood on his clothes, on his face, smudged on the black skull mask firmly gripped in his hand. The sniper shakes, tears of red hot rage burning the corners of his eyes. He takes a short, hot breath, and calms himself enough to steady his hands.  
  
  


**21:59:23.**

Blazer perks up, and the sniper's ex smiles, sliding over the hood of the car like a fucking asswipe, striding up to Blazer while Floral Tits rolls her eyes and walks over to Tux, who's currently trying to unlock the safehouse. The sniper's fingers twitch.

**21:59:41.**

Ex tells something to Blazer, and he laughs while Ex gives a shitty, cheeky grin. Tux is still trying to unlock the door, finally jimmying it open.

**21:59:55.**

Blazer grabs Ex by the jacket, pulling him down to face level, about to kiss him. The sniper feels his rage rising. His finger begins to curl.

**21:59:59.**

Their lips make contact. The sniper squeezes the trigger.

**22:00:00.**

The watch beeps.

The rifle fires.

All hell breaks fucking loose.

His ex's brains splatter all over the ground. Blazer falls backwards, face covered in blood and brain matter, screaming. The body drops, now missing a significant portion of head. The rest of the shitlords whip around to see his ex dead. Confusion and fear rivers through them all, surrounding the corpse of the bastard who broke the sniper's heart.

The sniper retracts his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder and heading out the way he came: through the back entrance and to a little street in the alley. He stalks off into the night, grinning like a madman and humming a tune as the sirens approach and the screams get louder.

_See you at your funeral, Ryan._

**Author's Note:**

> see y'all i guess
> 
> maybe i'll write about fiona next idk
> 
> maybe i'll do a freo/ryan thing i've wanted to do for a hot minute
> 
> who fuckin knows


End file.
